


A Visitation From The Muse

by jehannaford



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, This is my life now, shitposting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22988242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jehannaford/pseuds/jehannaford
Summary: When Papa III is your inspiration, the work he inspires isn't always suitable for all ages....
Relationships: Papa Emeritus III/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 22





	A Visitation From The Muse

**Author's Note:**

> This was the result of a Tumblr post on the topic of your favorite character's reaction to your writing. It was a perfectly sweet imagine about how supportive they are. However, since I already have a sense of what my relationship to my muse is like, I thought I'd share that with everybody instead. Maybe some of the other writers on here can relate.

The sound of typing filled the small apartment. Lost in her work, it was some moments before she sensed the familiar presence of the muse reading over her shoulder. 

“What are you working on, eh?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“Yes I do! Let me see it….” He reached for the laptop and she hastily snatched it away.

“No! I’m not showing you this one. Shoo!”

A brief scuffle ensued. In the end, he managed to pry the laptop from her unwilling hands and quickly scanned the work in progress.

He let out a whoop of laughter. She covered her face with her hands and groaned.

“I _did_ try to tell you….”

“This is _filthy_!” She glanced up at him and saw the evil grin on his face as he kept on reading.

“Yeah, I know. This is all YOUR fault, you realize. I didn’t ASK for this. I’ll have you know I was a poet back in college. They said I was good, had a promising career in front of me. I was RESPECTABLE, and NOW look.”

“Bah! Respectable. This is much more interesting.”

“You _would_ say that, you dirty old man.” She couldn’t restrain a fond smile. He was beyond impossible, but she loved him for that just as much as all the rest.

“There, you see? I’m a dirty old man, you’re a dirty old lady. We’re a perfect match.”

“I can’t really argue with this, much as I would like to.” She sighed. “So there it is. You insisted, so tell me what you think.”

“Since you ask, I think you could add a little something like this….” He whispered a few suggestions.

“Oh my _god. No._ That’s _horrible_.”

“It’s perfect!”

“Nnngh. Fine. Just don’t complain if it takes me twice as long to finish the damn thing now.”

“Why so slow?”

“Because I have to keep stopping, that’s why! It’s hard to type when you’re flustered, not that YOU would know anything about that.”

“Just doing my job.” His smugness was palpable.

She sighed, and he gave her back the laptop. He flopped down next to her on the couch with her lap as a pillow, and she idly stroked his hair.

“You really need to stop telling me stories about all the dumb shit you did in college, you know. Couldn’t you tell me something about that big magical duel with the opposing faction you had that one time?”

“Oh, we’ll get to that someday. But did I ever tell you about the time when I--”

“GODDAMNIT”

The apartment was filled with the sound of his laughter.


End file.
